SG1-25 Hostile Ground Page 14

  The humans were beating him now with sticks or pieces of the wrecked ship, cursing, venting their fear and fury on this wounded creature.

  In his ear, Teal’c heard his radio crackle.

  “Teal’c,” O’Neill said, hissy through the static. “You seeing this?”

  “I am,” he said quietly.

  There was a long silence. He knew the question with which O’Neill was wrestling and could guess the choice his friend would make; his stubborn adherence to right in the face of wrongdoing was the trait that had first drawn him to the man.

  To aid his decision, Teal’c toggled his radio and said, “The men appear to be armed only with sticks, O’Neill.”

  A moment later, O’Neill spoke again. “Yup. We’re gonna stop this. Look to your right.”

  Teal’c did as ordered and could glimpse O’Neill’s leg and boot protruding beyond the wreckage. “I see you.”

  O’Neill moved further out of cover, crouching low, with Major Carter close behind him. He signaled three, two, one. Go.

  They went.

  O’Neill let loose a burst of gunfire wide of the mob, hammering bullets into the trees and knocking out chunks of bark and leaves. Teal’c did the same, sending two bolts from his staff down into the ground at the feet of the men, spewing up dirt, while Major Carter broke to her left and came to stand midway between Teal’c and O’Neill.

  “Move back!” she yelled. “Move away from him!”

  Half the men dropped to the ground, the rest bolted into the trees.

  O’Neill stalked closer, his weapon leveled. “Go!” he barked at those who cowered in the dirt. “Get outa here. Go on! Run!”

  They did not need to be asked more than once, scrambling to their feet and racing up the sides of the valley after their friends. Teal’c kept his eyes, and his weapon, trained on them until he could see them no more. Behind him, he heard O’Neill say, “Carter, go get Daniel. Now.”

  “Yes sir.” And she was gone.

  After a moment, O’Neill came to stand at Teal’c’s side, lowering his weapon but not his guard as he studied the man — creature — still trapped at the end of the rope, but no longer in mortal danger. It looked like a wild animal, cornered, spitting and hissing at them. O’Neill glanced at Teal’c. “What the hell is that thing?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Really?”

  “I have never seen its like before.”

  O’Neill took a deep breath and shook his head, as he often did when about to do something of dubious wisdom. He clicked his weapon onto single shot and said, “Stay sharp.” Then, in one swift move, he lifted his gun and made the shot, slicing through the rope that held the creature. It collapsed forward with a thump and laid there, arms and legs still bound, still snarling.

  Teal’c aimed his weapon and so did O’Neill, watching the creature watch them through its strange yellow eyes.

  “Okay,” O’Neill said. “So I guess we wait for Daniel to come talk to the zombie.”

  By the time Major Carter and Daniel Jackson returned, the creature had maneuvered itself to a sitting position — clearly favoring its left leg, which appeared to be bleeding heavily.

  “Sir,” Major Carter said as she approached, and Teal’c turned to see her supporting Daniel Jackson as he limped closer.

  But, despite his obvious suffering, Daniel Jackson’s eyes widened when he saw the creature Teal’c was guarding. “Wow,” he said. “I guess that’s one of the Amam? I can certainly see where the name came from.”

  “See if you can talk to it,” O’Neill said, jerking his head toward the creature.

  “Can we untie him first?” Daniel asked, wincing as Major Carter lowered him to the ground. He did not look like he could travel much further.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” O’Neill said.

  “We have to build trust.”

  Getting back to her feet, Major Carter drew closer to the creature. “Sir, its leg — It’s wounded.”

  “It’s the teeth I’m concerned about,” O’Neill said. “Devourer, remember?”

  Apparently choosing to ignore him, Major Carter crouched down close to the creature and said, “Are you hurt? Can we help you?”

  The creature just snarled.

  “It can’t understand you,” O’Neill said. “And just move back, would you? I don’t like the look in its creepy, yellow eyes.”

  The creature hissed again, this time at O’Neill.

  “Oh,” Daniel Jackson said. “I think he understood that.”

  O’Neill raised his eyebrows. “No offence?” he said doubtfully.

  Ignoring him, Daniel Jackson returned his attention to the creature. “My name’s Daniel,” he said. “We’re — God.” Gritting his teeth against an apparent wash of pain he pressed his hand to his side. When he could speak again he rasped, “We’re trying to get home. Through the Stargate. Do you have a way to open it?”

  The creature just snarled, baring pointed teeth.

  “Sir,” Carter said, “I think it’s in pain. I think we should cut it free.”

  “She’s right,” Daniel said weakly. “Build trust.”

  Teal’c kept his weapon trained on the creature, as did O’Neill. It watched them in return, wary, but intelligent. Teal’c suspected that Daniel Jackson was correct; the creature could understand their words.

  “Sir?” Major Carter pulled out her knife.

  After a moment O’Neill gave a curt nod. “Be careful.”

  The creature flinched back as Major Carter moved in, but she held up her hands and said, “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” First she cut the rope around the creature’s feet, then moved around behind it and cut his arms free. She stepped back quickly, sheathing her knife and lifting her gun as she backed up next to Teal’c.

  Behind him, Teal’c heard Daniel Jackson gasp as the creature rubbed at its wrists and flexed its hands. They were large and clawed, like they were intended for killing. Still watching SG-1, it climbed to its feet.

  “Woah,” O’Neill said, backing up a step.

  It was tall, taller even than Teal’c, broad and powerful; even unarmed, there was no doubt that this was a dangerous creature. It sniffed the air, cocked its head as if listening for something distant.

  “Ah, Jack?” Daniel Jackson said from behind them, his voice shaking.

  O’Neill did not turn around, his gaze fixed on the creature. “The Stargate,” he said. “Can you open it? We need to go home.”

  “Jack…” Daniel Jackson’s voice was urgent, frightened. “Oh God…”

  Teal’c turned around in time to see Daniel Jackson pull his hand away from his side. It was red with blood, a dark patch spreading across his jacket. His face was colorless.

  “Daniel!” O’Neill dropped to the ground next to him just as Daniel Jackson’s eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Jack…” He collapsed backward and O’Neill caught him, lowering him to the ground.

  Major Carter blanched. “Oh God.”

  “Daniel… ?” O’Neill tapped his face. “Daniel!” He pressed his fingers to his neck, moving them, searching for a pulse. “Shit. Shit!”

  “No…” Major Carter fell to her knees on the other side of Daniel Jackson, her hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “Daniel, please.”

  Teal’c felt his heart constrict, his jaw clenched in grief, but he fixed his eyes and his weapon on the creature. He was all that stood between this thing and his friends, and protecting them was all he could do to help.

  The creature took a step forward. Teal’c raised his weapon, braced his feet for an assault. “Stay back.”

  It snarled, bared its teeth. And in a flash of movement it seized the end of Teal’c’s staff weapon, pushing it up and away from its face. Teal’c tried to jerk the staff free, but the creature was strong and had the better angle, its clawed fingers curling tight around the weapon and holding fast.

  “That one is dying,” it said in a strange, sepulchral voice.
“I can help him.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Over the span of his forty year career, George Hammond had developed an instinct that was almost like second sight: the ability to read a room, an inherent sense of danger ahead, an intuition that told him when a situation was about to swing one way or another. As Harriman announced the incoming wormhole and the Tok’ra IDC, Hammond knew that this was one of those situations.

  He uttered the words he’d said a thousand times, only this time they brought with them a heavy feeling of dread. “Open the iris.”

  It was Jacob. The video stream was irregular, the audio stuttering at times, and Hammond wondered from where in the galaxy he was transmitting. “What’s the news, Jacob?”

  But it wasn’t Jacob Carter who spoke. “There is no news you will want to hear, General Hammond,” came the reverberating tones of Selmak. “Our search for SG-1 has been unsuccessful. We have investigated the planet thoroughly, each crystal within the Stargate dialing device has been scrutinized, and we can come to only one conclusion.”

  “And that is?”

  “That the last gate dialed was Earth’s.”

  Hammond took a breath and closed his eyes, trying not to lose his patience. “Forgive me, Selmak, but hadn’t we already established that? What we need to know is what went wrong? Where did it go if it didn’t end up here?”

  “I’m afraid we have no answer to that, General.”

  Hammond balled his fists and leaned against the control room console, feeling like, if he didn’t lean on something, he was going to collapse under the weight on his shoulders. “So what now? What’s our next move?”

  Selmak said nothing for a moment, just glanced away. The gesture was almost imperceptible through the static of the video feed, but Hammond caught it. And he knew. “There is no next, is there?”

  “We are sorry, General Hammond. Truly we are, but our search revealed something else that was unanticipated. This attack by Hecate was not isolated. Her forces have recently been involved in a number of other skirmishes on planets close to that solar system. Part of an ongoing conflict between Yu and Hecate’s ally, Nirrti.”

  Frowning, Hammond said, “Infighting between the System Lords is nothing new. Especially between those two.”

  “The fighting has just stopped.”

  Hammond waited, trying to figure out what Selmak was saying, feeling his heart hammer and hearing the hiss of sand falling through the glass. Then he understood. “They’ve stopped fighting because they have allied.”

  Selmak gave a solemn nod. “And they are not alone. Tok’ra agents report a number of ha’taks heading for what the Tau’ri call the Orion nebula. A fleet is assembling, General Hammond, and it is close. A fleet led by one far more dangerous than either Hecate or Yu or Nirrti.”

  His throat was dry as he asked the question. “Who?”

  “The veracity of our intelligence is irrefutable. Apophis is preparing, General. All he needs is a target. Do not, under any circumstances, allow Earth to become vulnerable.”

  “But don’t you understand, Selmak? Without SG-1 we are vulnerable! This is why we need help to find them.” He was practically shouting now and could sense the concerned gaze of Harriman seated at his side, but this situation was desperate and sometimes a calm voice achieved nothing. He tried one other tack. “What does General Carter have to say about this? Why am I speaking to you?”

  His expression changed, a subtle shift, and suddenly Jacob was looking at him through the flickering screen. He looked tired, strung-out and hopeless. “I’m here, George,” he said. “And God knows I wish there was something I could do.”

  “We can’t give up on them,” Hammond said. “You know that.”

  “It’s too late, George. I’m sorry, but Selmak’s right. The Tok’ra can’t help you —”

  “Or won’t.”

  Jacob spread his hands, conceding the point. “Either way, the game has changed. You need to call off the search for SG-1 and bring your people home. You have to prepare, George, because Apophis won’t wait. And when he strikes —”

  The video feed stuttered and fizzed and then blinked out. Hammond turned to Harriman, who shook his head and shrugged. “Bad transmission, sir.”

  Yes, son, thought Hammond. Bad transmission. The very worst.

  It was over. The last grain of sand, the last tick of the clock. The last turn of the wheel.

  His heart felt like lead and his voice was just as heavy. “Sergeant, send a message to all teams currently off-world. Bring them home.”

  And, just like that, SG-1 was officially Missing, Presumed Dead.

  Daniel was dead. Sam was sure of it. His skin was ashy, as if there wasn’t a drop of blood left in his limp and unresponsive body. From the frantic look on the colonel’s face as he pressed his fingers first to Daniel’s wrist and then his neck, she could tell he hadn’t found a pulse.

  “Come on,” he growled. “Damn it, Daniel, don’t you dare.”

  Sam let go of his shoulders, pulling back the neck of his shirt, and saw the telltale red spots of septicemia spreading, livid across his chest. Her gut twisted, tears blurring her vision. It was too late.

  Somewhere Teal’c spoke, ordering the alien creature to stay back. It snarled, but Sam didn’t turn round. All she could think of was Daniel. Dead. Oh, God, Daniel…

  “That one is dying,” said a guttural voice behind her. “I can help him.”

  She looked back over her shoulder, swiping a hand across her eyes. The creature was watching them, its hand clutching Teal’c’s staff weapon in a manner that was almost casual, despite the strain on Teal’c’s face as he tried to wrest it back. The creature’s yellow eyes, with their narrow black pupils, betrayed neither concern nor malice. Sam didn’t know how it could help, but if there was any hope… “Sir?”

  “Not a chance.” The colonel had his MP5 trained on the creature, unflinching in his stance, though his eyes flicked back to where Daniel lay prone.

  “He hasn’t done anything to hurt us, sir. And Daniel…” She didn’t need to finish her sentence. There was nothing they could do to save him now.

  “Why should I let you anywhere near him?” Colonel O’Neill said to the creature, which merely tilted its head.

  “It is of no importance to me whether you do or not. You have assisted me. I can now assist you in return.”

  There was a moment that stretched. Sam, watchful, her hand on Daniel’s too still chest; Teal’c, tense and waiting, ready to seize his staff weapon at the first opportunity, and the colonel, firearm steady, his gaze shifting from Daniel to the alien and back again. Noon was approaching, the planet’s sun trying its best to burn a hole through the perpetual mist, it’s strange, thin light casting a diffuse glow across the colorless landscape.

  Daniel’s chest moved.

  “Sir!” She bent her head close to his mouth, and almost laughed in relief as she felt the tiny hairs at her temple stir with the faint exhalation that came from his mouth. “Sir, he’s breathing but we don’t have much time.”

  Another moment of hesitation, then…

  “Alright, go!” Colonel O’Neill barked at the Devourer. “Help him.” The creature moved forward, and the colonel let his MP5 drop to his side and pulled his Beretta from its thigh holster. As the Devourer bent on one knee next to Daniel, its movements unhurried, the colonel pressed the muzzle of the gun to the back of its neck. “One wrong move. Just one.”

  The Devourer gave no indication it had even heard the warning, never mind felt threatened by it. It merely pushed Sam’s hand aside and pressed its own to Daniel’s bare chest, extending its long talon-like fingers. It pushed down… and Daniel’s eyes flashed open as he gasped in pain, arching his back up off the ground.

  “Let him go!” shouted the colonel, but the Devourer swung its free arm back without even looking and sent him flying into a nearby boulder, stunning him. Sam grappled for her own weapon, heard the buzz of Teal’c’s staff opening. As she pulled her handgun f
ree, bringing it to bear, she saw the colonel, woozy, struggling to do the same. She aimed for the Devourer’s head, finger tight on the trigger.

  “Sam, no!”

  She froze. Daniel’s palm was an inch from the barrel of her gun.

  “Daniel?” Colonel O’Neill’s tone mirrored her own amazement. “You ok?”

  Daniel’s skin, while still ashen, was decidedly less deathlike. Not to mention the fact that he was sitting up, his breathing normal, the look on his face concerned rather than pained. He was fine.

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “It actually helped you?” said the colonel, pushing himself up from the ground. He pressed a hand to the back of his head and winced.

  “Yes,” said Daniel. “He helped me.”

  Sam felt the tension leak from her shoulders and she lowered her gun in relief. “Thank God.”

  Daniel’s brow furrowed, as if something had just occurred to him, and he pulled up his shirt, tugged off the bloody bandage, and ran his hand over his side. It was now entirely healed, only a faintly uneven patch of skin visible where his wound had been. “Wow, I guess he really helped me.”

  Sam exchanged a glance with the colonel and in that glance was the shared thought: If it helped us with this, what else might it help us with?

  “Uh, thanks,” the colonel said, “for that.” He waved his hand at where Daniel was still scrutinizing his healed wound.

  The Devourer watched them, its shoulders rising and falling heavily as if breathless; Sam guessed that the healing process had depleted its energy reserves. Otherwise, it looked unaffected. “The debt is paid. A life for a life.” Its head snapped up, its reptilian eyes scanning the low sky.

  “Yeah, about that,” the colonel said, “we’ve been told you came through the Stargate and we need…”